Crossing the Frame
by frozenroses
Summary: 5 years after walking out on Hermione without a reason why, Draco Malfoy finds himself back on her doorstep. When Hermione lets him in, he has no idea what to do, but he knows there's no going back. Based on the song Crossing the Frame by Coheed & Cambria
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This supposed oneshot was inspired by "Crosing the Frame" by Coheed and Cambria. Good band, good song ). I know I should be working on my other stories, but what can I say? I was struck by a muse P I'm also debating as to whether or not I'll turn this into an actual story, so if you're intrigued, or just bored, keep a weather eye on the horizon P there might be more coming soon! And please, by all means, review! I'd love to hear your thoughts )

Disclaimer: I own a Slytherin jacket, a Hogwarts backpack and a Hogwarts blanket. But no Slytherins, no Hogwarts, and no Harry Potter. Maybe for Christmas next year?

Draco Malfoy stood outside a familiar brick building, light snowflakes collecting on his eyelashes and platinum blonde hair; a layer slowly forming on his broad shoulders. If he was cold, he didn't know it.

Though a closed window, he could see a yellow glow that meant she had decided to burn candles instead of use those Muggle lamps he knew she had. He had never gotten used to those, no matter how many times she had tried to show him how to use them.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up snow-laden steps to her door, lifting a closed fist to knock on the door but stopping less than an inch away from the heavy wood. Should he really be doing this?

His mind wandered to the life he lived here once—a life he had recently found himself missing dearly. A life with her in the very center. She was everything to him, from her untiringly, beautiful head of bushy caramel hair, down to her dainty, tiny toes. He used to laugh at her small feet, saying they were the reason for her clumsiness. He missed her voice, the look in her eyes whenever he whispered her name, the feeling that spread from the pit of his stomach to the depths of his soul with the lightest touch from her slender fingertips. But there was a world between them now, though they were separated only by wood and glass.

The happy memories led to the night five years ago when he had left without a word. He knew—had known—for a year before then that he loved her with everything he had, but the fact didn't hit him completely until that morning.

She had gone to work, leaving him with a hot plate of eggs and sausage along with a few pancakes and a note saying she'd be home around 9 that night. It was the "Love, Hermione" that did it. He stared at her handwriting for hours—at those two words—not knowing why they affected him as much as they did in that moment. Love? He was a Malfoy—he wasn't supposed to "love." Yet here he was, professing his supposed love to Hermione Granger of all people. Every day. Multiple times. And did he even know what love was?

Part of him scoffed at the stupidity of his self consciousness. She, with all her kindness and compassion, had learned to love him. she, with all her forgiveness and patience, had shown him what it was to love himself. But after a life without love from anyone, he wasn't sure if he was equipped to do this forever. What if she decided he really was the evil git she knew in school? What if he hadn't really changed? What if this "new" Draco wasn't enough for her?

Not to mention the fact that she was Muggleborn. Of course, that meant nothing to him, now that the war was over and he was able to look past the mindless prejudice drilled into him from an early age. It was, however, not something that his old circle of friends were very happy about. He was a Slytherin—how could he act in such a manner unbecoming of the greatest Hogwarts founder? It was absolutely absurd.

"Fuck it all," he muttered to himself, lowering his hand and wondering again if this was a good idea and already knowing the answer. This was probably the worst idea he had thought up in a long time—save for the actual decision to run out on what just might have been the best thing to happen to him since Voldemort's death. He knew she would be furious. Hell—he left in a sudden rush and never said why. He left no note, gave no word—nothing. If it were him in her place, he would hate the very ground she walked on.

Leaving as completely as he did, didn't work out so well, however. He still tried to keep up with her comings and goings, even going to such lengths as asking Blaise to watch her and report to him every now and again. The idiot had laughed at his spying as he agreed, while Draco sneered his thanks.

The years had passed in the worst possible way for Draco. Trying to move on and get over Hermione wasn't easy when he was watching her by day and dreaming of her at night. By his count, he had accumulated over 600 years bad luck, what with his waking up in the middle of the night frustrated as hell and taking it out on the nearest mirror he could find. Sometimes it was just an accident that happened when he felt like throwing something across the room; it wasn't his fault there was always a mirror to catch those stupid useless marble baubles his mother insisted on having in his room.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he repeated under his breath, running a hand through his silky hair and brushing a few snowflakes off in the process. "This was a bad idea."

He turned, deciding against pressing the steps required to cross her door frame if she had decided to answer the door. How could she know he was here? His fist never rang hello, and his footsteps would be covered by new snow within minutes. Snow? He never even noticed it was snowing until now.

He had reached the bottom of the steps, ready to walk away from the threshold of the place he once thought of as home when the door opened, bathing him in a yellow light. It had been five years, yet he remembered all too well that little gasp she made when she was surprised. He shivered, not from the cold but from the memories that filled his mind—memories of making her gasp like that all through the night and the next morning.

He stopped, not knowing what to do. Should he turn around? Should he apologize? What would she say to him if he tried? "Fuck, fuck fuck," he repeated again in his mind, thankful she couldn't hear.

He shivered again as she breathed his name, proof that she recognized him. It never occurred to him how much pain, wonder and confusion one person could put into a single word—let alone his name—but there it was. That settled it.

Giving himself a shake to dust the snow out of his hair and off his shoulders, Draco Malfoy put his hands in his pockets, not realizing how cold they had gotten. It was a long walk home, and he knew it would be snowing the whole way.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I want to thank the people who read and reviewed this story and for their kind words of encouragement. I guess it doesn't take much to convince me to keep going :)! I'd be more than happy to continue this story, as long as I know people will be reading it! I might also continue another story I thought I'd finished—Two Can Play. We'll see how that goes :P

As for this story, I've decided to write it from Draco's point of view for now, though I'm not closing myself to the possibility of writing in Hermione's perspective every now and again. We'll see how that goes too :P

Happy New Year everyone :D

If there was ever an award for awkward moments, Draco had a feeling the one he found himself in would rank in the top three…of all time. He didn't really know what he was expecting, walking up to Hermione's doorstep, but this certainly wasn't it. However, here he sat, sitting in a chair he recognized all too well, across from a woman whose love he had run away from. Of course, she didn't look too comfortable either, so at least he wasn't alone.

"More tea, Draco?" Her question forced him to stop looking everywhere else but in her direction, as he answered with a simple, "No, I'm alright." He almost laughed—if there was any word to describe him at the moment, it definitely wasn't "alright."

A few more excruciatingly painful moments passed, and all the while Draco wondered why he didn't just walk away when she ran into the street calling after him. It had been easy enough for him to walk away from that doorframe all those years ago…then again, the first time, she hadn't been following him, and it hadn't been snowing as hard as it was this night—and she wasn't exactly dressed for the weather. What kind of gentleman was he, to leave a lovely lady stranded in the snow? In the back of his mind, a voice was asking him what kind of gentleman left a lady at all to begin with, but he pushed it away. She was speaking to him again.

"So…what brings you to this area at this time of night?"

He almost didn't answer her question, just to have her ask once again. Merlin, if her voice didn't still give him chills. It took all his will to keep still as a particularly violent one spread through his whole body, making a particular part of his anatomy twitch—rather inappropriately, he thought. As if he needed to deal with an erection with all this tension in the room.

"Draco?"

"Oh, I, um…I just thought I'd stop by, and you know, say hello," he answered rather pathetically, taking a swig of tea to wash away the taste the words had left in his mouth. It hadn't even been ten minutes and she had him acting like a little schoolboy.

"Oh, well…how have you been?" Truth be told, she was being so much more gracious than he thought she had a right to be. Why wasn't she screaming? Why wasn't she crying? It didn't seem right to him. He wanted to shake her—do anything to knock some sense into a head he missed having on his shoulder. Gods, he needed firewhisky.

"Alright—you know how it is with the business, and everything," he replied, to which she nodded. "What of you?" Inwardly, he cringed, knowing she would catch on to the silent question he asked and not sure if he was ready to hear the answer. If she somehow managed to keep a relationship without his knowledge…

"Oh, mostly work, and the like. I got another offer to teach at Hogwarts, if you can believe it," she chuckled, and he felt his heart skip a beat. What he wouldn't give to hear that chuckle everyday…

"Of course I can believe it—you're rather bright when you put your mind to it," he responded, earning the whisper of laughter on her part. It almost made him cross the short distance between them to take her in his arms again, but he kept himself grounded. He wouldn't blame her if that particular reaction brought her to give him the slap he knew he deserved.

"Thanks," she smiled, and he swore the room brightened. He knew he had no right to that smile, but hell if he didn't save the image to keep him warm throughout the rest of the winter.

He desperately wanted to stay, but knew if he lingered, old skeletons would find their way out of a closet, and he didn't want to ruin the good feeling in the air at her acceptance of him into her home once again. He knew better than to ruin a good thing twice over.

"I really should be going," he began, getting to his feet.

"Oh! Alright—I'll see you to the door then, shall I?"

"Alright," he agreed. Waiting for her to get to her feet as well. Together, they walked to her front door in silence. His eyes wandered everywhere they could with the limited light that lit the rooms. Each glance brought back memories of times he had a feeling he shouldn't be remembering now.

He stopped just in front of the door, turning offer a small smile at her upon hearing her express her thanks at his stopping by.

"Thanks for having me," he responded, unsure of what to do. Was he allowed to touch her? Could he hug her goodbye, or was that a bridge long since burned? She was obviously having trouble answering the same question, settling for opening the door for him instead. Disappointment filled him at the lack of physical contact between them, though he supposed that was his fault.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, at being thrown back.

"Here," he muttered, taking the door and using both hands to close it. A feeling he didn't recognize replaced his disappointment—how was he supposed to go home?

"I'm sorry—I didn't realize the snow storm had gotten that bad,"

"It's not your fault—you don't have to apologize," he assured her, helping her up from where she had fallen at the strong gust of wind that knocked her over when she opened the door.

"I suppose we should have heard it—listen to the wind blow outside! Will you be able to get home, Draco? How did you get here?"

"I walked," he confessed with a grimace, knowing there was no way he could possibly get home in the same manner now. "Are you still connected with the Floo Network? I could just floo home, if that's alright with you."

"No, not anymore—I stopped using the Floo when…I just don't use it anymore," she finished, and he knew that his disappearance had everything to do with her lack of a connection to one of the wizarding modes of travel. Merlin, if he didn't feel guilty enough already.

"Why don't we contact the Ministry, and see if we can set up a Portkey or something?" he suggested, bringing his hand up to brush snow out of her hair, then remembering himself and brushing snow off of his shoulders instead. He wondered if that looked as awkward as he felt it did.

"How, Draco? I can't send an owl out in this weather… Here—why don't you stay here for the night? I'm sure the storm will be over by tomorrow, and I could use the company…" He knew that last statement was a lie; he could always tell when she lied…her nose did the tiniest of twitches, and she'd bite her lip so softly that it was almost unnoticeable. Yet, the offer lit a fire in him, and as much as he knew it was wrong to take advantage of her hospitality in light of what he had done to her, he couldn't say no. However, he knew accepting right away would make her think he had set up the whole night so it would turn out this way, and that was far from the truth.

"I don't know—I don't want to impose…"

"Oh, nonsense—you could never impose on me. Come on—I'll fix another pot of tea, and we'll get you settled."

He followed her back into the living room, sitting down where he had been sitting before, expressing his thanks as she walked back into the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, he sighed, letting his head fall back against the soft cushions. Well…there was no going back now, was there?

As she walked back into the room with more tea and a few cookies he knew she had made herself, he readied himself for the awkwardness that would follow, hoping dearly that she wouldn't remember that he had gotten his license to Apparate a year or so before they got together.

This was going to be a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

A//N: First of all, thank you soooo much to all who took the time to read the story, regardless of whether or not you reviewed. It means a lot that you would take the time to read this, and I'm very grateful to you :)

Second, a HUGE thank you to those of you who read and REVIEWED!!! Your reviews brighten my day, and inspire me to keep writing. Thank you so much!!!

Third, I would like to point out that this story has an 'M' rating, which was satisfied in the first chapter with Draco's colorful-ish language. If that wasn't enough, than this chapter will definitely earn that rating. Adult situations ensue. Basically, raunchiness and more cursing. I can't help the cursing, but if you'd rather continue the story and skip the more heated scenes, then scroll down until you see the " …………………….."

Thanks everyone and enjoy!

It was heaven to run his fingers through her silky hair again, to feel the pulse in her neck beneath his lips, and to hear her breathy moans as his other hand reacquainted itself with the rest of her amazing body. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why the hell he had left such perfect warmth—was he really that stupid?

Smirking, he nipped and kissed the rest of her neck, before moving lower. "Funny," he thought to himself, as his journey neared her bare chest. "I don't remember taking her shirt of…"

Then again, there wasn't much he remembered when he was making love to Hermione, save for his mental map of her body. He prided himself on the fact that he knew every inch of her in the most intimate of ways—probably better than she knew them herself. By the way she was responding to his feather-light touch, he knew some things really didn't change. Of course, who was he to leave everything up to assumptions? He'd spend the whole night making sure he still knew her body as well as he thought he did, and he had a feeling she wouldn't argue.

A cool breeze danced across his back, startling him the slightest bit—he hadn't realized his own shirt was off as well, or that they had opened a window. Wasn't there a storm outside or something? He knew better than to ask questions, though and kept going. Merlin, if his pants weren't so tight; he wondered why the hell he hadn't taken his pants off when he took his shirt off earlier. After all, it seemed the reasonable way to take things, and since he was a pretty reasonable guy it didn't make sense for them to be on. He wanted them off. He wanted to feel everything Hermione had to offer. He wanted to show her how much he missed her, how much he regretted leaving her. He wanted to remind her how good he could be when he put his mind to it.

Slowly, he lifted himself from his place above her, smirking at the incredibly erotic image she made with her hair tangled on the pillow, and her body flushed and twisted from what he had been doing to her. That was another mental picture he could keep to last him through the winter, though it seemed she'd be willing to keep him warm herself. He saw she was about to ask him why he stopped, when she saw his hands fiddling with his belt buckle. He hadn't worn a belt in years—Merlin knows why he had one on now, but he did. The sight of her eyes lighting up in anticipation was almost enough for him to come in his pants; if anything, it served to make them tighter. She really was something; no one else could make him harder than he ever thought he could go.

He had barely gotten the zipper down, when she suddenly sat up and reached for his length—something he wasn't expecting. He also wasn't expecting the next chain of events.

It was like a million things happened all at once, when in reality it was really only a few. Out of nowhere, he felt a great pressure right on his most sensitive area, causing him to blow his load right as he woke up from his dreaming. Disoriented wouldn't even begin to describe Draco Malfoy as he frantically glanced around the room wondering what the hell just happened and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. He knew he wasn't in his bed, though the feel of the room was familiar enough. So was that purring coming from his waist. Crookshanks.

"Shove off, you stupid cat," he whispered in annoyance, pushing Hermione's pet off his lap gently before he lifted the covers to see just how much damage was done to the bed. Frowning at the complete lack of light in the room, save for the slightly open door, he lit his wand to see better, groaning at the mess he made. Well, fuck it all.

Muttering a quick spell to clean up the come-soaked sheets as well as his own sticky thighs, Draco Malfoy lay back in bed, sighing. Merlin—what did he do to deserve such torture? That was a dream? It must have been—Hermione never was one to purr when he came on her face before, but damn! Stupid Crookshanks, ruining his fantasies…

It explained everything, of course—why their clothes had disappeared without anyone touching them, why he had been wearing that stupid belt, why Hermione wasn't mad…and that breeze that hit his back in the dream must have come in when the damn cat pushed open the door.

Taking deep breaths, Draco just couldn't calm down. A thin layer of sweat still covered parts of his body, and the cool air in the room did nothing for his heated skin. His heart was still racing, and his hands were still shaking—no doubt at the loss of such smooth skin with which to steady them. He needed a drink. Now.

If he knew Hermione, and he hoped he did, she'd have a bottle of something a little stronger than Butterbeer in one of her kitchen cabinets. If he was lucky—which he had a feeling he wasn't after that dream and the way it ended—it would be something better than that Muggle alcohol she often kept around the house. Checking the clock across the room, he saw that it was a little past one in the morning. Good. She'd be asleep by now.

He threw off the covers, glad that he was warm enough that he wouldn't have to waste time with his robe or anything. "Come on, you mangy feline—I believe a couple shots are in order."

…………………………………………………………………..

The hallway was dim; she was always one for conserving energy. Thankfully, he still had his wand, and his eyes had adjusted to the dark somewhat, making the trip from his room to the kitchen much easier. What a night. He just wanted to get the drink, and forget about that damn dream…and the fact he wanted to strangle that damn cat for ruining it.

He wasn't expecting to see her sitting on the couch, bottle already in hand.

"Here, I think you'll be looking for this," she stated simply, offering up the bottle of Firewhiskey. He took it without a word, taking a small swig; the bottle was already half-empty.

"So," she began, and he could see by the look in her eyes that she hadn't slept yet, but spent the whole night so far in the company of the bottle in her hand. Something was telling him this was not going to go well. He tipped the bottle back once again, before handing it back to him. something was also telling him he'd be better equipped to handle this conversation if he were slightly intoxicated.

"So," he echoed, watching her take a sip. "You've been up all night, haven't you?"

"Yeah, well, I figured I'd wait a little and see if you were going to leave me this time, too." Ouch. He deserved that one. "No, I take that back. I know you're going to leave again. I wanted to see if this time, you'd have the balls to tell me why." Yep, she was good and pissed. It was almost funny—she never could hold her liquor. It would probably be even more funny if her anger was directed at someone else.

"Hermione," he started, wishing he could have some more of that Firewhiskey. After all, she obviously didn't need any, and he was far too sober at the moment for his liking. He didn't even get to finish the thought.

"No, you arse—don't 'Hermione' me!!! Do you know how long it took me to get over you?! Do you know how many times I cried myself to sleep wondering where the hell you had gone?! If you would ever come back??? How many times I asked myself what I had done to drive you away so suddenly and completely that you didn't even care enough to leave a fucking note?! I mean, Merlin's pants, Draco—I loved you!!!" The tears were streaming down her face now, each one a sharp stab in his heart. He wanted so much to hold her in his arms and comfort her right now, but he knew she needed to say all this. At least he could blame it on the booze.

"I loved you!!! I still love you, for God's sake, and I have no idea why! Five years!!! Five years and not a word from you—not a single word!!! For a time I thought you were dead, do you know that? I thought the only thing that could have kept you from me was death itself, and I was willing to do anything to bring you back. I would have gone to Hades' himself to beg for you! Five years!!! No note, no phone call, no owl!!! Maybe it would have been better if you had died, Draco. You should have died. Maybe then I would have been able to move on."

Her last words were worse than a slap in the face and a swift kick to the nuts. He knew he had hurt her, but he hadn't realized just how deep her love for him had been until now, or how much it mattered to him that she not think of him this way. His own tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks, when his apology died in his throat. Hermione had stood up to deliver another scathing rant when she swooned, falling back onto the couch.

"Oh, fuck," she muttered, holding herself as though she were about to break at any second. It was then that she bent over, and proceeded to throw up right at Draco's feet. Yep, Hermione really never held her liquor well.

He winced as the sound of her retching filled the air, his own stomach turning at the sound. She was still crying.

"Come here," he whispered softly, knowing she probably didn't want him touching her, but knowing of no other way to help her. "Let's get you in bed."

Ever so gently, he tied her hair back and lifted her in his arms, cleaning her up before setting her down in bed. By then, she was sound asleep. Apologies could wait for tomorrow, he decided. He had a very big mess to clean up, and he would start with the one in the living room. Maybe, once Hermione was awake, he could work on the one he had made of her heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Something told Draco that Hermione wasn't exactly pleased with the breakfast he prepared the morning after her drunken confession. Well, more like brunch; it _was_ about quarter past eleven.

Maybe it was the way she stopped dead in her tracks when she realized that tantalizing aroma was his work. Maybe it was the way her hands were stationary at her sides, balled into fists. Maybe it was the way she was standing, like she wanted to move forward, but she didn't want to deal with the Ministry over a murder case that would start right there in her kitchen. Maybe it was the slight purse of her lips, which she usually did when she was stopping herself from saying something she knew she probably shouldn't say.

Or maybe it was the look in her eyes, a look he remembered with surprising accuracy. She was analyzing the situation. He thought it might be best to speak first.

"I've got food ready," he announced unnecessarily, pulling a chair out from the table so she could sit down.

"Draco," she began before he cut her off.

"Look, I know there's a lot of things we need to talk about, but I really suggest we eat first. I'd rather not spill all my secrets on an empty stomach—what about you?"

"I don't know—I'm not the one with secrets to spill, if I remember correctly." Ouch. The truth really did hurt. She glanced at the food, returning his gaze with a raised eyebrow as she pulled out her own chair and sat down in it. Eh, fair enough. He sat down in the chair he had moved as she filled a plate with eggs and rashers.

"Hermione…what you said last night…" he began hesitantly, wondering why the hell he was so unsure of himself. It wasn't fair, damn it; he had spent the entire night writing a speech in his head, and now it was falling apart as he tried to remember it. And did she seriously have to sit there all composed and make him look like such a blundering idiot? As he floundered for the right words to say he could have sworn there was a slight smirk on her face; he hoped she was enjoying this…maybe then she wouldn't be so hard on him…

"What you said…" he repeated, before taking it back to try a new route. "Look, it had been a long day, and we both had a bit to drink—"

"Are you honestly going to blame this one on exhaustion and firewhiskey? Because from what I remember, you're not one to use the same excuse twice, and you've already used that one when we came home from Ginny and Harry's wedding. Or have you forgotten the one day in our first year together that we weren't intimate?"

She was definitely enjoying this, the twisted chit. Merlin, he loved that about her.

"I wasn't trying to blame anything—"

"Good, because from where I'm sitting, the only one to blame for anything is you. So unless you've come to apologize, you can be on your way—I'm sure the snowstorm has died by now, and if it hasn't I could really care less." At this, she stood, taking a bite out of a piece of toast before throwing it down once again. "And if it's the things you left here that you've come back for, then you'll have some shopping to do. I sold most of it, gave some of it to charity, and burned the rest. Good luck with that one."

He watched her turn around and begin to walk away, his jaw mentally hitting the floor. He loved that she was never scared to stand up to him, but did she honestly think she could get away with that? True, he had left her in the worst of ways, but slimy git or no, he was a Malfoy, damnit, and no one talked to a Malfoy like that without regretting it. For the first time since he walked away from that door frame all those years ago, he felt like himself again—the man he was before his stupidity. And that man was not going to let a sharp-tongued woman walk away without getting his own word in.

In one fluid motion, he was out of his seat, around the table and right behind her. Grabbing hold of her wrist firmly, he spun her around and pinned her against the nearest wall, not caring that the force of impact caused a couple picture frames to slide to the ground. She could pick them up later.

"You forget who I am, love," he whispered, drawing his face closer to her the tiniest bit. She stared defiantly up at him, her brows slightly furrowed in concentration. There was such intensity in her eyes that he knew if looks could kill, he'd be more than six feet under but he had a feeling insecurity was hidden behind her confidence, and if he could hold her gaze just a little longer, he could break through that shell.

She took a breath, tension releasing from her forehead, but the fire still in her chocolate orbs. He wanted desperately to rest his eyes on the full lips just below her adorable little nose and he almost did when she opened them to speak.

"No," she whispered back with a little shake of her head. "How could I forget what I didn't know to begin with?"

For the millionth time since he showed up at her doorstep, Draco felt his heart shatter. Merlin—how many times could she be right and make him feel a foot tall as a result? He knew she had a point, and that he had no right to be here, in her house, taking advantage of her hospitality. He had overstepped the boundaries he had created for himself five years ago, and his brain was screaming at him to get out of there and save what was left of himself. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoys didn't let women get in the way of their lives. The only problem was that she _was_ his life. If only it hadn't taken him so long to realize it.

Yes, she was right. She didn't know him at all. How could she, when he didn't know himself to begin with? He was a Malfoy—he knew that much. But what did that mean? He took a step back, his eyes now on the picture frames that littered the floor.

…….

The second his eyes left hers, Hermione wanted to rush forward and hold Draco in her arms. Somehow, the world always seemed right when they were together—when she could feel his breath on her hair and the warmth of him around her. She could never explain it, and that really bugged her. After all, everything had an explanation…there were libraries with millions of books to prove it.

She hadn't been too surprised when Draco left her. She knew she wasn't exactly the prettiest witch, or the richest, or the most likely one a Malfoy would ever associate with, let alone fall for. That didn't mean it didn't hurt any less, though, when she realized he wasn't coming back. She had accepted he wasn't coming back. It was the most logical thing in the world, and Hermione Granger understood the logical. What she didn't understand was the unexplainable, and what she didn't understand, she had no patience for.

She had felt immense satisfaction at making him uncomfortable so many times during his stay, even though she felt a little piece of her heart die with each callous comment. Sure, she didn't understand why he was back, or why he left…but maybe she hadn't done enough research.

"Draco…" she began, her pride getting in the way of her apology. Damn, if she was a Gryffindor after all these years.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Hermione. I doubt the storm has let up, but I'm more than able to Apparate home. I'll just clean up the kitchen and be out of your way within the hour."

She wanted to cry at the lack of emotion in his voice. She wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to slap him, to hug him, to kiss him, to tell him that she forgave him years ago. Most of all, she just wanted to _know_. She wanted to know what was so wrong about her that he had to go. She wanted to know so she could work on it—make it better, and learn from her mistakes.

"Don't be silly," she surprised herself by saying, choosing not to look at him, but pick up the picture that had fallen when he pushed her against the wall. Merlin help her, it still turned her on when he did that, but she certainly wasn't going to tell him that. "Apparently, it's time we got to know one another, don't you think?"

He didn't turn to look at her, but she knew he was considering her proposal. She cursed herself for not thinking of a better way to handle the situation, but she didn't know what else to do. There were no books to help her figure out how to deal with such problems, and Draco could be so unpredictable sometimes.

A loud CRACK!! and an empty hallway told her just how unpredictable Draco could be.

A/N

Gah. Sorry it's taken so long for an update. I'm not going to blame it on being incredibly busy—it was hard to write this particular chapter, and I'm not too proud of it either…sorry guys haha. I'd like to know what you guys think of the little Hermione interlude, though, and if you think I should add her POV every now and again.

I'd also like to thank everyone who took the time to read so far )! And for those of you who take the time to review? You are AMAZING. I 3 you. THANK YOU!!!


	5. Chapter 5

I know, I know

I know, I know. It's been, what—months? Ish? And I'm incredibly sorry, but you know how life is—stuff hits you right when you don't expect it. And I was hit with quite a bit of stuff /. But now I'm back, and inspired. This story—and all of my other ones—**will** be completed.

Thanks, as always, to any and all of my reviewers. As much as last month SUCKED, your kind words kept me going, and this chapter's for you ). As for everyone else—REVIEW!! I don't care if you loved it, hated it, or didn't really feel anything. I'd appreciate any constructive criticism, any words of encouragement, and anything else you thought of while you read the chapter! Don't be scared to hit that button! LOLz. That's what she said.

As for my other stories, I'm working on those too! It might just be a while for me to get back into the flow of those…I might finish this one first before heading back to Be My Escape…

Anyway, without further ado, I give you the next chapter!

"Can I help you, sir?"

With a curt shake of his head, Draco Malfoy sent the little busy bee away, annoyed with how helpful the employees at Flourish & Blotts were. If he needed help, he'd ask for it damnit…

Looking up, he quickly realized the object of his attention had disappeared. He cursed silently; it had taken him well over fifteen minutes to find her again after he lost her the last time. Damn it all; Malfoys were anything but failures, yet here he was not even able to keep track of a single person. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn she borrowed Potter's invisibility cloak.

Carelessly placing whatever book he had lifted from the shelf back into its place, Draco pulled his coat around him in an effort to conceal himself once again before taking another round through the store. He knew she was still here; the lack of tinkling coming from the door told him that no one had come into or out of the bookstore since that raggedy hag left half an hour ago.

The fact that he felt like an idiot didn't stop him from continuing his search. True, Malfoys always got what they wanted, but that didn't mean it was simply handed to them on a Slytherin-crest engraved platter. No, a Malfoy's success was guaranteed because Malfoys were Slytherins, and Slytherins did whatever they needed to do to get what they wanted. Even if it meant following Hermione Granger around like an idiotic, lovesick Pygmy Puff.

That, of course, was exactly what he had been doing since he had Apparated from her house about a month earlier. As much as the little chit got on his nerves when she was right, he missed her—not that he would ever admit it out loud; just like he'd never admit he was wrong…though, following her around was hitting closer to the mark than he felt comfortable with. Damn Granger; always bringing him out of his comfort zone.

It irritated him to no end to find that he could no longer locate her. It irritated him even more when she found him. He wanted to laugh, for a second—she looked so surprised at the sight of him in her favorite bookstore it almost made him want to kiss her. Almost.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted, deciding to be civil. They were in public, after all, and the Wizarding World was known for its gossips. There was no need to fuel their fire. Besides—they would speculate as to the status of the once-famous couple before the once-famous couple could decide for themselves what they were. Hermione didn't like it when people knew what was going on in her life before she did. Come to think of it, he didn't like it all that much, either.

"Draco," she nodded, looking at him with curiosity. He was relieved; at least there was no anger in her eyes. When an awkward silence followed, he took it as the perfect opportunity to make his exit. She, however, had other plans.

"Look, I," she began, before pausing. It took all of his willpower not to smirk at her; he loved it when she didn't know what to say, and this time around she was really struggling. He loved it even more when he was the reason behind her speechlessness. Who said Hermione Granger knew everything, anyway? Another awkward silence followed, with Hermione obviously trying to find the right words to voice what she felt. He would have gladly stayed longer to watch her distress, if not for the crowd of people who had gathered—obviously to watch them work out this issue. Granted, the crowed was only two or so people, but Draco couldn't help but feel they were the kind of people who wouldn't find it wrong to run to the Daily Prophet and spread the word that one of the highest-profile couples was getting back together. He didn't want to rush the Gryffindor, after all.

"Why don't we talk about this somewhere a little more private?" he suggested quietly, hoping the others wouldn't hear and she wouldn't think he was propositioning her in an inappropriate way. He was sure there would be time for that later. Sometime later…

"Why? So you can walk out on me again?" Her reply stung, but he knew just what to say to rile her up. He also knew that spewing fire to match hers would only complicate the situation further, but the Slytherin in him couldn't resist.

"Technically, I Apparated that last time, love."

"Don't you 'love' me, Draco Malfoy!" she quipped, crossing her arms.

"I rather think I do, sometimes, Hermione Granger."

His play on words was not lost on the so-called "brightest witch of the age"—though it surprised her even more than seeing him did. To be fair, he surprised himself—he hadn't meant to say that…hell, he didn't even know if he really meant it…but it shocked her enough to send her back to a state of simple babbling, which he could handle. Trying to make it seem like he knew what he was doing, he gently laid a hand on her elbow, a gesture he knew she found comforting.

"Your flat?" he asked, to which she only nodded, her face pale. Her skin, cold and clammy to his touch, still gave him gooseflesh, but he thought nothing of it; if anyone noticed, he could always blame it on the weather. Together, they walked outside. This time, when he Apparated, he took her with him.

Her flat was neat and tidy; just as it was when he left it. It came as no surprise to Draco; she was a well-organized person and he expected no less. What he didn't expect was the impassioned rant that fell forth from her lips as soon as she recognized her surroundings.

"How dare you say you love me! After everything you've done to me! You hardly know what love is, Draco! You profess love, but when you get scared, you run off as though love is something to hide from! Where were you when I cried myself to sleep from missing you so much? Where were you when I could barely bring myself to eat, and Ron and Harry practically had to shove food down my throat to keep me from starving myself? Where were you when I wanted to stop breathing if it meant I could bring you back? You love me? You love me?! I didn't even know what I did, Draco! I didn't even know what I did…"

Angry tears had begun to spill from her eyes, her words once again acting as daggers through his heart. He wanted to apologize, he really did, but at the same time, he was sick of her playing the victim in this. Hadn't he suffered as well? Where did she get off thinking she was the only one with the broken heart? After all, wasn't she the one who had repaired his own, only to have him shatter it completely? Thinking about it, he saw the flaw in his logic. Merlin, damn his Malfoy pride all the way to Hades. Damn it to the deepest pit of Hell and back.

Giving in to temptation, he lowered himself to the floor to kneel beside Hermione, who had collapsed from the intensity of her emotions. "You didn't do anything wrong, Hermione," he whispered as he gathered her into his arms. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She didn't answer. Instead, she responded by sobbing even harder against his shoulder, completely falling apart in his strong arms. He did his best to soothe her, knowing the time had come for him to console her after being the cause of the tears she so violently spilled. Running a hand through her hair over and over, he continued to assure her, "You didn't do anything wrong." Soon enough, she was asleep in his lap, exhausted by the emotional purging.

Ever so gently, he lifted her up, his eyes focused on her beautiful face as he made his way to lay her down in her room. Memory was enough to guide him. Memory was enough to bring fresh blankets and pillows to her room, and extra ones for himself. However, memory would never be enough to satisfy his need to feel her against him once again, no matter how innocent the case may be. Convinced she was still fast asleep, he lay down next to her, continually stroking her hair as he repeated, "You didn't do anything wrong." He knew that when she woke up there were questions she would ask that it was time for him to answer, and he had a few questions of his own he still burned to let fly from his lips. But that was later.

I know I said it, but please REVIEW!! They make me smile like this D!!


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